Then, on December 3rd, from Bejar arrived three more Americans. They were Sam Maverick, and Mr. Holmes and John W. Smith, who, having been prisoners all this time, had run the sentries and escaped. They asserted that Bejar was ready to fall; the troops there were pinched for supplies, and were so frightened that they couldn’t half fight—didn’t want to fight, either. The way the Texans charged had scared them half to death.
Great news was this; and when that night another council of war was held at General Burleson’s tent, an assault seemed certainly being planned, and daybreak of the next morning was rumored as the probable time.
Again the camp was stirred, and little sleep was possible.
“We’re going to attack at daylight!”
“Captain Dickinson says we’re going to attack at daybreak!”
“How do you know?”
“Well, that’s the tell.”
“Haven’t had any orders, have we?”
“Don’t need ’em. We’ll just r’ar up and fight and then eat breakfast.”
“Eat grass, you mean.”